Backstage Romance: An Austen-Inspired Romantic Comedy Box Set by Gigi Blume (ebook reader with highlighter txt) 📕

“May I see your ID sir?” the clerk asked Dog Man.

“What? Why?”

She huffed and did that eye roll thing she was so good at. I wondered if that was a job requirement. “If you plan on doing any of the driving, I’ll need your ID.”

“Of course he’s driving,” I said. “I hate to drive.” That wasn’t exactly true. I loved the freedom of driving where I wanted to go when I wanted. What I couldn’t stand was being chauffeured around in a town car when I was in high school. All my friends had sweet rides—convertibles and stuff—but my famous brother had me on a short leash. It was for my protection but still…

“I err… yeah.” Dog Man set Reeses back in the case and slipped his license out of his wallet. Sunshine Lady volleyed her eyes between us and chuckled.

“What?” Dog Man and I said in unison.

“You fight like an old married couple,” she said, running Dog Man’s ID through the reader. “I can always tell the ones who are gonna make it.”

We must have had the most ridiculous expressions on our faces as she handed Dog Man his ID. Her tone was almost robotic as she said, “Congratulations on your engagement.”

Yep. Weirdest day ever.

4

Wyatt

That was a weird turn of events. Not twenty-four hours since I got an exclusive leak from my contact in Los Angeles and next thing I know I was on a plane to chase the story. This could be my big break if I could just get there on time. Now I was sharing a ride in rural Iowa with the prettiest girl I’ve ever met. Spunky and infuriating, yes. But pretty. A no make-up kind of beautiful with a natural pink to her cheeks and honey locks framing her face. And I had no business looking at her like that. Plus that engagement ring on her finger cost more than I’d make in a year. Definitely too much trouble.

She spent the first twenty minutes looking out the window without uttering a word to me. The silence drove me crazy. So I cranked the radio. She immediately shut it off and crossed her arms.

Alrighty then.

When she finally spoke, I couldn’t decide if I was relieved or disappointed she broke the silence.

“I need a burner phone.”

“Okay. Next stop, I guess.”

“Good.”

I continued down the highway, careful to keep my eyes on the road but every few minutes I stole a glance her way—just to see the back of her head, I supposed. Reeses was happy at least, fast asleep on her feet.

“You can use my phone if you want to call whoever was supposed to pick you up at LAX,” I offered.

She kind of bristled at the suggestion, as if my cheap Metro phone wasn’t good enough for her.

“Nope. It can wait.”

More silence. More staring out the window. I wanted to point out to her the weather wasn’t my fault—even though she acted like the planes were all grounded because of some evil plan I’d devised. But I settled for civility, reminding myself it was her who got us this car and I’d have to pay her back somehow.

“I suppose I should probably thank you for your unorthodox improv skills back there.”

She looked at me for a second and then turned back to the window.

“So…Reeses and I thank you. I’ll pay my share of the rental once I get paid from my gig in L.A. And for your phone, too.”

That caught her attention. “Gig? You an actor?’

“No way.”

“Musician?”

“Nope.” I was a little embarrassed to say, so I went with vague. “I’m a writer.”

She snorted. “Screenwriter.”

I wished. But no.

“Actually, I’m a journalist. Working on a big story.”

“Oh? What’s the story?”

“That’s top secret, I’m afraid.”

She repressed a grin. “Okay, Clark Kent.”

“Clark Kent, huh?”

“Yeah. You’ve got that Clark Kent vibe going on. But without the glasses.” She swished her fingers around in little circles in my direction.

“So…Superman, then.” I wagged my brows.

“Ha. Dream on. Not the looks. Just the fumbling nerdy part.”

I had to agree with her on that. But I owned it, so it was okay.

“So do you have a name?” she asked, shifting in her seat to face me better. “Or do I have to continue calling you Dog Man?”

I almost spit out my morning coffee, which would have been really something since I’d consumed that hours ago.

“Dog Man? Hmmm. That’s kind of charming. I think I’ll stick with that.”

She huffed. “Fine.”

I half-laughed. Daddy’s little princess liked to pout when she didn’t get her way. I considered for a brief moment to let her call me Dog Man for the rest of the ride. But I realized the flaw in that. Besides, I didn’t know her name either and calling her princess wasn’t going to go over well. I was too busy being angry and dazzled by her at the airport to notice when she signed her name. And the rental agreement was in the glove box. What was it about this girl?

“I’m just kidding,” I said. “I’m Wyatt.”

She raked her eyes over me in open assessment.

“Hmmm. I guess.”

“You guess? It’s not like I’m giving you a fake name.”

“You could be.”

My fingers gripped tighter around the steering wheel. “Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a reporter on a top-secret assignment.”

Cute. Wild imagination. Maybe a tad delusional.

“You can check the rental agreement in the glove box.”

“Nah. I’m good.”

“All right. Believe me, don’t believe me. I don’t care.” Then why did it bother me so much? “What’s your name, then?”

She hesitated. Maybe thinking up something outrageous. “Georgia.”

“Okay, Georgia. When we make the next stop we’ll exchange IDs and see which one of us is lying.”

“NO!” she blurted.

Interesting.

“I mean...I don’t like my picture,” she quickly added.

So she was vain too. Funny, I didn’t have her pegged as vain with that fresh, glowing face. Spoilt and entitled, sure. But not vain. A ping a disappointment shot through me. And why did it matter anyway?

A length of silence descended upon us while we drove down that rural road for the next